Fragrance of Dark Coffee
by Yamato's Tiger Lily
Summary: For part 20 in the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme. "Tell Trite," he told the guards one time, "it's one of my rules to never drink from the same cup twice. You can wash it as much as you want, but in the end, it'll still have that bitter taste." Spoilers!


**Author's Notes: **I own nothing. This is my first attempt at writing Godot, but hopefully I wrote him fairly well. This is a better version than what it was on the Kink Meme originally. I was pressed for time and plus I really needed to kick that bunny out of my head. In any case, even though the original poster didn't like it, I hope you guys will! And I hope you'll like it enough to review! :3

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**Fragrance of Dark Coffee  
**by LilyChan

No one expected the white hair now ex-prosecutor to live long in the dark, dreary cells of the jail. Especially since he used the majority of his strength to kill Elise, or Misty Fey. The strength to try to send that demon, Dahlia, back to hell. Of course his plan was foiled. She found a way to come back to earth again only through another channel. But that damned dark-haired attorney just had to do things _his_ way. It was against the rules. Phoenix Wright, the dark haired man who sent him there, was a troublemaker.

A cough escaped his dark, cold lips. By the minute, he grew colder. Weaker. Like coffee that had been out for far too long. He knew that it was in his rules to never leave coffee left unfinished. He didn't last too long in this world. The inmates had rarely bothered him during his time, which was fine with him, but it only made his stay lonelier. Godot always knew he would die alone ever since he woke up that day. He figured they couldn't handle his brand, anyway. It was one of his rules to never brew more than you can drink.

The aforementioned lawyer tried to visit him multiple times but each time, Godot wouldn't allow him. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Tell Trite," he told the guards one time, "it's one of my rules to never drink from the same cup twice. You can wash it as much as you want, but in the end, it'll still have that bitter taste. The past will never go away."

And the past will punish him, as he knew Hell would for all his sins. He let out another cough as he started to feel colder and weaker.

It was his time. Since the time he woke up from his coma, his poisoned-induced coma, the doctors told him he didn't have long to live. His body was able to have enough immunity for him to survive the past year. The poison would eventually kill him, they said. It was just long enough for the dark-skinned man to tie up some loose ends before he departed. To finish his coffee pot that was left unattended for so long. He smiled a bitter smile, similar to the taste he came to love. To be addicted to.

"This is the end," he said to himself as he felt the last of his strength leave him. Then nothing. There was black all around him. He felt nothing. But the only thing that he was allowed to take with him was the smell of coffee. That bitter, dark smell. It enticed him like a sweet forbidden fruit. One he was all too eager to taste over.

"Mister Diego?" called out a sweet voice. Suddenly, Godot opened his eyes. He no longer had a visor that covered them. The colors of red and white were now visible. He could see the vibrancy of each color that popped out. His eyes were no longer sensitive. He ran his hand through his hair and found some loose dark brown hair.

_I should stop using that cheap shampoo. _Diego Armando thought idly.

The girl before him had bright red hair. Her skin was as white as snow. He looked at his own skin. Dark. Bitter. Like coffee. She wore a seemingly silky dress that fitted her petite body. The sun was harsh outside the courtroom lunch room so she had a white parasol out. The trimmings were pink and frilly. She clung to it for dear life, as though without it, her secret would be revealed. Her eyes were big and wide. Something was behind those eyes, Godot, no, Diego thought. Godot. That name was foreign.

Where did Godot come from? Was that a new brand of coffee? He looked by his hand that seemed to hold a cup of freshly made coffee. Next to it, there was a book which was covered in black and white. It looked like of a man trying to escape a bright room. _Waiting for Godot_ by Samuel Beckett sprayed across the title.

_Oh, yeah. That's right. I was reading this before I'd take Mia to the play version._

"Mister Diego?" the girl, known to his memories as Melissa Foster, said again, "Aren't you going to try my special brew? It's for good luck!"


End file.
